


The Top of the Hill

by oninofukuchou (OrderOfRevan)



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hamamura Mikoto - Freeform, Mentions of Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrderOfRevan/pseuds/oninofukuchou
Summary: Hijikata makes the choice to leave Mikoto behind.
Relationships: Hijiakta Toshizou/Original Female Characters
Kudos: 8





	The Top of the Hill

He felt restless, but that was because he’d been cooped up so long that he’d forgotten what fresh air tasted like. It was the same room in the same Inn, day after day, with only the maids and Hamamura for company … Not that he exactly minded Hamamura’s company. 

When he’d first woke, she’d been the one there wiping the sweat off his forehead and chest, the one feeding him, the one cleaning and rebandaging all his wounds. She was his link to life, the first and only thing he saw every time he woke, her presence what motivated him to keep breathing when the black behind his eyes grew inviting. 

From those early days all he could really remember is that she’d smelled good and that her hands were always cool on his fevered skin. Her voice was the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard, the timbre of it comforting beyond the screaming pain that greeted him every time he so much as twitched a finger. He wanted nothing more than for her to be there, to place his head in her lap, and to read to him from her book … 

Stories about their friends, things even he’d forgotten the details of until she brought them back, their faces and voices bursting through his weary mind as vague shapes and colors and strong scents or sounds. 

She’d never know that it was her who’d called him back, but that was because he’d never be able to articulate it. Even right now she was sitting in the room with him at the desk pouring over what looked to be stacks of notes she’d taken over the years she’d spent with the Shinsengumi. Her hair was gathered up on the top of her head in a short top knot, still much longer than when that bastard oni had sheared it all off … 

Course, Hijikata wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold much against Kazama anymore. 

He’d taken the Ochimizu to beat Kazama and uphold his own honor, and Kazama had gotten his family’s ancestral blade to defend his own. 

There wasn’t much difference between them anymore. 

“You’re staring,” Hamamura said, then glanced over her shoulder at him. “Are you starting to get hungry? I can go make you some food, if you want. Something other than porridge, maybe? You’re probably ready for it now…” 

“Let the inn staff handle it,” he said, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt to walk over to her; his left leg dragged, and he realized he really was going to have to walk with a damn walking stick until he healed. “You’ve done enough for me, Hamamura.” 

She gave him a long look, but moved over for him to sit beside her; did she know that she reached out to steady him when he started to stumble? How long had she been reaching out to catch him without him even realizing it? 

… She’d been there for him at Nagareyama, hadn’t she? If she’d seen him there, if she’d seen him through Utsunomiya, he doubted there was anywhere she wouldn’t go.

Had… had he ever... Thanked her? 

Reaching out idly, he tucked a strand of flyaway hair behind her ear and let his touch linger just a bit too long. Hijikata didn’t think he could help it, not when they were so close and he owed her so damn much … So much more than dying alone somewhere with no chance of anyone remembering anything she’d done. 

“You’re thinking unpleasant thoughts again,” Hamamura said quietly. “Whatever it is, stop. You’re still recovering and we’ll probably be up here another month before they let you out to hobble back to the front.” 

“You’re right,” he admitted, unable to give her any shit right now. “I’m…” he let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his own overgrown hair. “I’m sorry.” 

Hamamura set down her papers and looked over at him, covering one of his hands with her own. Slowly their fingers intertwined, and HIjikata was filled with the urge to pull her in close and hold her so he could bury his face in her hair and chase that comforting scent that had lulled him back into sleep so many times now. He wanted nothing more than to sink into that comfort and never leave, but they both knew he couldn’t … 

So he settled for holding her hand as his heart swelled painfully in his throat. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” she told him. “I know how hard it is not to think those things… But you might owe Otori-san an apology for almost getting yourself killed when he asked to be able to rely on you.” 

Hijikata heaved a sigh and looked at her, finding her already looking back at him. 

Her amber eyes were gentle, set in her oval face in a way that always drew his attention to them… That, or to the bow of her lips, currently curled into a sympathetic smile. He had no doubt she understood, and wondered if she had nightmares of her own, too … If in her dreams, she was still standing on that hill having to force her every step farther away from Kondou-san. Or maybe, in her dreams, she was chasing after him and he was too far away for her to reach?

He’d really put her through hell, hadn’t he? 

“You’re wrong, Hamamura. I do owe you an apology,” he squeezed her hand, soothing his thumb over the back of it, before letting out a small and bitter laugh. “Hell, I owe you a lot more than that.”

What she’d given him, he’d never be able to pay back.

But at least he knew that now. 

“Even if you owe me one, I don’t want it,” She hesitated, then moved in closer before leaning her head against his shoulder. “All I want is to see you back out there, Hijikata, doing what I know you want to be doing … And I just want you to let me help you do it.” 

He believed her, that that’s what she wanted, but his chest ached anyway. 

Once she had asked him to be more honest with what he was feeling, to not hide anything from her anymore, and he’d failed to do that much. Hijikata already knew that there was only so far he could go with her, because the thought of losing her… 

He couldn’t even entertain it. 

“So this,” he said, gesturing to her notes with his free hand, “how’s it going? I remember you telling me you’re actually writing the damn thing now.” 

“You remember that?” she asked, then laughed at him. “You just kept moaning something about how good I smelled and how you wanted me to feed you.” 

Hijikata felt his face burning and decided it was best to stare at the papers on the desk instead of her face. Had he really said that shit out loud? Had he actually talked to her … told her that he liked the way she smelled? 

Damnit!

Hamamura laughed at him, releasing his hand to lean across him and pick up a sheath of papers that she proceeded to place in his hands. Turning his head to look at her, he underestimated how far away she’d gotten and their noses brushed together.

Though to her credit, she pretended it hadn’t happened. 

“This is what I have. I’m up through the Hamaguri Gate incident,” she told him. “I’m having troubles figuring out how to write all of this while omitting Chizuru, the Furies, and anything to do with Oni. They’re a bigger part of it than I thought, at first.” 

Hijikata nodded, his eyes scanning her familiar writing… He’d seen so much of it now, from the moment he decided it was probably best to dictate non-personal letters to her. That was a long-ass time ago now, wasn’t it? 

“You’ve got a lot left to write. Think you can get through it all?” he asked her.

“Well, I have time now, and you’re not allowed to be up and working,” she smiled at him. “I figure that we can work through it together. It might do you some good… To look back on it with me. To see it the way I see it, for once.” 

To see it the way she saw it, huh?

“You’ve always thought too much of me,” he said with a small smile, tracing the long-dried ink with his fingertips. “I just do what has to be done to make it to the top. That’s all I’ve ever done.”

“And you don’t understand that that very same thing makes you remarkable,” Hamamura moved closer to him, their shoulders touching, and looked up into his face, her hand touching his jaw where he’d grown just a bit of stubble. “These brave and incredible things that would take other people real thought to accomplish are things you do without thinking. You never had to aspire to be more of a samurai than the samurai, you just always were.” 

Their eyes locked and he found himself lost in them her faith in him reflected clearly back for him to see. He’d seen that look before in Yamazaki’s eyes, or Gen-san’s, and in Kondou-san’s eyes, but… He’d never really taken it to heart like he did with her, maybe because he’d never stopped to think about what they might see in him. Hijikata had only ever worked to protect them, he had lived to see their dreams come to fruition and had given everything to that cause… But he’d never one stopped to really think about how they felt about it. 

And now it was too late. 

All he could do was feel sorry he hadn’t stopped to talk things over and grieve them while doing everything he could to keep Hamamura, at least, alive. 

Not just for his sake, but the sake of the Shinsengumi.

She was their living memory, and the papers in his hands proved that. 

“You’re really something else,” he said, allowing himself a small smile as he looked at her. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone else quite like you…” He covered her hand with his own, fighting the temptation to press her palm against his lips. “You’re probably crazy, Hamamura, sticking with me as long as you have.”

“I’m definitely crazy,” she agreed, looking up into his face in a way that practically begged him to hold her, “but it’s led me to you so I don’t think I can complain.”

“And you have strange tastes,” he continued, dropping her hand to look over the papers. “Most women like me for my looks, not my sparkling personality.” 

“So I can’t like both?” Hamamura laughed, pushing herself to her feet. “I’m going to see about getting something to eat. Try to fight the compulsion to write letters to the front in my absence.” She grinned at him over her shoulder, “I doubt they could read your handwriting anyway.” 

Hijikata narrowed his eyes at her, and he was grateful she didn’t force him to dwell on the nightmares they both knew plagued him in between his moments of lucidity. She had a way of seeing to his needs, even the ones he didn’t realize he had at the moment.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, her laughter doing more to ease his anxieties than he’d ever admit. 

* * *

He disliked the feeling of the cane in his hand, but he was still grateful that he was up and walking around. Being outside where he could smell nature and not bound to his damn bed was a nice change of pace, and Hamamura felt much less like a nurse now than she had previously. 

Not to say shit hadn’t changed between them in other ways. 

Hijikata’d probably joke that she’d seen him naked now, which meant that she was privy to more than a few of his secrets, but she’d been changing his clothes and helping him bathe… Just like any good page would. The only real difference between her and Tetsunosuke and Souma was that she was a woman and had opted to stay behind with him instead of following the others to send him reports from the front. 

Of course, telling himself she was just a page was something he’d have done before Kondou-san had … Surrendered himself to let Hijikata and the others escape. It’d be something he’d do while he was busy telling himself that he was doing the right thing without taking anything else into account. Denying shit like this, pretending he didn’t see it when he damn well did, had caused Shinpachi and Sanosuke to leave and take Chizuru with them, and it had been what had resulted in Sanan-san drinking the ochimizu. 

If he were being… Completely honest, at least with himself, then he’d admit he was embarrassed she’d seen him. The last thing he wanted to do in front of her was look like an idiot or to appear weak, but he did again and again to the point where he wasn’t sure how she hadn’t just dumped his ass somewhere and gone on to find someone more impressive than he was. 

And yet here she was, still looking at him like that. 

Hell, she still wore the damn pin like she was proud of it. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he said with a sigh, nodding his head towards a nearby hilltop, “that that’s a good place for a grave.” 

Hamamura paused, strands of her short hair blowing into her eyes, before she followed his gaze. He watched her expression change to one of somber consideration before she nodded, tucking her hair back behind her ear. 

“Kondou-san would like it, I think,” she smiled the kind of smile you gave at the funeral of a beloved one. “It has a good view and it’s out of the way. I think the Choshu would be less likely to … To tear it down out here.” 

Hijikata flinched but she was right. 

There was no way that they wouldn’t… Not when they’d executed him for Sakamoto Ryoma’s assassination. Sakamoto was a national hero and a martyr for the Choshu, and the Shinsengumi were nothing more than rebellious samurai filth who deserved to be exterminated for opposing the Emperor. 

“He deserves more than some fucking unmarked grave,” Hijikata said, his throat growing tight as he thought about the last words they’d ever exchanged. “If I can give him that much, I should.” 

If he thought about Kondou-san too long he could feel his chest start to ache as if part of him was missing, probably because it was. No one else had ever understood him more than Kondou Isami of the Shinsengumi, had been quite as forgiving of all his foibles and even admired him for a few of the ones everyone always called personality problems. 

Losing him hurt more than anything had ever hurt him before, and his mind kept replaying their final words again and again, trying to think of a way that he could have convinced the man to live. But in the end he knew Kondou was just as stubborn as he was, deep down, at least when it came to protecting the people that he loved the most… Which is why he’d never once given up on Heisuke or Souji and had continued to support Sanan. And wasn’t that why Toshi had done with drinking the ochimizu hurt him so much? 

“I’ll help you,” Hamamura said quietly from his side, her voice wavering with the weight of her own emotions, “even if I have to build it with my own hands.” 

He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing, and found being so close to her comforted him in spite of everything. He’d lost Kondou and would never see him again, unless Hijikata had a hope of ending up in the same place as him when he finally bit it, but she was still here.

She … loved him, didn’t she? 

Really loved him? 

It wasn’t some fleeting attraction, but a real devotion, something that he’d be hard pressed to dissuade her of. There was no more simple admiration, but something that bound them together until he couldn’t imagine life without her at his side. 

Maybe he’d been meant to meet her the same way he’d always thought he was meant to meet Kondou-san. The same way he knew he’d been born to be a samurai in a world that didn’t believe he ever could be. 

They were like his left and right arms. 

And he’d already lost one of them. 

“You’re sure, right? That this is what you want?” he asked her, staring at the tips of his tabi instead of meeting her eyes. “There isn’t somewhere you’d rather be?”

Hamamura sighed heavily and tugged at his sleeve, forcing him to lift his head and meet her eyes. The way she looked at him made his chest tight, filled him with this urge to take her hand and lead her back to the inn where they could be alone. It made him think of the times he’d been close to her, when she’d… Let him drink her blood. 

For a while he could entertain the idea of a world where it was just the two of them … A world after the Shinsengumi.

But in truth, he knew that it was impossible for that to exist for him.

In the face of her writing he’d been forced to confront that his story and that of the Shinsengumi were one and the same. When it ended, so did his significance, and the meaning to his life … There was nothing beyond that for him.

But for her … 

There might be so many more stories for her to tell.

He couldn’t … 

He couldn’t. 

That’s all there was to it. 

“This is what I want,” she affirmed. “From the first moment I saw you when I was still just a serving woman until now, I knew that this is what I was put on this earth for.” Her eyes glowed in that way that he admired so much, headstrong and kind-hearted, and she smiled at him, “there is nowhere else in the world I would rather be than at your side.” 

He believed her.

There was absolutely no way he could not, given all the evidence. 

She loved him and would follow him to the ends of the earth, no matter where that was.

Hamamura Mikoto would follow him into death.

And that was the one thing he could absolutely not allow. 

After all, the world would be a worse place without her in it. 

One way or another, he would find a way to make her stay behind when the time came. Hijikata would see that she lived on, so that the very best parts of what they had been could greet the new and uncertain future where the samurai were no longer needed. 

* * *

She was sleeping soundly, her head against his shoulder, and he didn’t want to move away … But he had to. 

Otori-san had said the ship was leaving early in the morning so if he was going to slip away it had to be now. Ezo awaited them, the final gasps of the dying Shogunate that would not fall down without a fight, just like the samurai philosophy it was built around. It was their chance to show the world that they stood by those beliefs even if it amounted to nothing in the eyes of the world … Though he suspected the more hopeful men, like Enomoto-san, still thought they could appeal to whatever samurai honor was left in the Imperial government and be a bastion for the old ways. 

Hijikata knew full well that it was not possible. 

He’d known it for a long time now, probably since Toba Fushimi, if he were honest. 

Even so… 

Taking a breath, he moved himself slowly away from her, laying her down by herself on the fuon they’d ended up sharing the night before. She looked peaceful, and though he knew she’d absolutely never forgive him for breaking her heart this way he chose to remember her as she was now. 

After all, this hurt him, too. 

Only now was he realizing how much he truly cared for her, the depth of his own feelings. 

Running his hand through his hair, his eyes fell on his old kimono and the few things he’d brought with him from Kyoto… There wasn’t much. His old pipe, and his poetry book, a few odds and ends… 

Taking a breath, he picked up the pip and the book, then made his decision. 

Tucking the pipe into his jacket, certain he’d need it to weather his anxiety over the coming weeks. There was a lot he was going to have to face, but where he was going he wouldn’t need the book and he wasn’t going to need his old clothes. 

Careful not to wake her, he tucked the poems at her side and then draped his kimono over her. 

Not sure what she would do with it, but… 

At least it was something. 

He wasn’t even sure why it had suddenly become so important for him to leave it behind, but it was. She deserved more than just memories, she would need physical evidence that he existed when they probably would bury him in an unmarked grave just like they had Kondou. 

He doubted anyone would claim his body. 

This way she could have something of his to hold onto, momentos. 

He’d find other things to send back to Nobu and the others. 

Reaching out he touched her face one last time, cupping her jaw before finally pulling away. 

“Goodbye,” he muttered, shrugging into his jacket and tucking his pocket watch into his coat after checking the time. 

It took him no time at all to arm himself and walk away even though it had taken him over an hour to work himself up to making this decision. Just like that, he walked out on her and away from whatever future they might have had together in a world where things were different. 

He walked towards his inevitable death. 

By the time he reached the ship he felt… Nothing about the situation, numbness. It was as if he’d left a part of himself behind with her, and in a way he had, hadn’t he? She held the last part of his heart that still had the capacity to think about the future beyond tomorrow… But he didn’t need that part of him. 

All he needed was the ability to make it one day at a time for the sake of the Shinsengumi that he and Kondou had created together. For the sake of their friends, living and dead, and every man who had ever given his life to the Shinsengumi… 

He boarded, unable to go below deck just yet, gripping the railing as he looked back out at the world he was leaving behind. The sea breeze tickled his nose and stirred his hair, his eyes closing as he took in the rocking sensation and let the last of his regrets drift away with the wind.

There was no point in feeling sorry anymore. 

“Chief Hijikata?” he opened up his eyes at the sound of Shimada’s familiar voice, turning his head. “Where is Hamamura-kun?” 

He took a breath and offered Shimada a shaky smile, “she’s staying behind. Gotta finish her novel, you know? We can’t keep holding her back for the rest of her life.” 

Shimada did not look convinced but he said nothing, sparing Hijikata an interrogation. Heisuke and Sanan-san wouldn’t have, he thought with a small smile … They would have made comments about it, the both of them. Saito would have looked at him disapprovingly and Souji never would have shut the fuck up and mocked him relentlessly… 

And Kondou-san… 

There was no way Kondou-san would have ever let him get away with this. 

But it was for the best, because her living meant their story would live on with her. 

Someone would go on and survive to tell the story of how they’d lived and died, and he owed it to them… To her … To see that it reached the ears of the people who would go their whole lives being told the samurai were tyrants. Someone needed to let them know what the warrior spirit was worth, and that the Shinsengumi had stood for it until the very end, both by writing about it and modeling it for them to see. 

“Let the men know I’ve arrived,” Hijikata told Shimada, then tapped the insignia pinned to his arm, “誠” scrawled across the paper, “and make sure they’re marked clearly. We’ll want to make sure to set an example for the other soldiers we’ll meet. After all..” 

He smiled at Shimada, turning to lean against the railing as a chuckle pushed past his lips, finally putting Hamamura behind him, “we’re warriors. Gotta make sure they know exactly where to look to find us.”


End file.
